The Mabinogi Chronicles
by Dani-Of-The-Dark
Summary: The happenings in Delphic, a guild created by an elf with snarky pets. They go on adventures that somehow turn out to make sense and yet don't. Not just K, for language and controversial topics. #suckysummaryftw
1. Chapter 1: Zeke's Adventure

**The Mabinogi Chronicles**

**Act I**: The Adventures of Zeke the... Mango.

In the northern fields of Tir Chonaill, Zeke took his two-handed sword and brought it down on a pesky wolf. He leaned back and sighed, adorable raccoon tail twitching. Things had become dull lately, and the best he could do was beat up weak wolves that wanted lamb chops.

It wouldn't be long before he mastered warrior tactics. There was little he could do without utterly destroying whatever stood in his path. He was no grandmaster among masters, but he certainly could hold his own against even the scariest of situations... Okay, maybe not the scariest, but most common-difficult ones.

But today was different. Zeke wasn't just guarding sheep, it seemed. Grazing in the grass alongside the lamb chops was an alpaca, nearly the same color. It was white, fluffy, and seemingly-docile.

Zeke took out his gathering knife. He approached the alpaca. He sheered it with an eye towards its hooves and mouth.

The alpaca looked back at him with lazy eyes as it continued to graze.

So far so good.

Zeke gathered up the wool and put it away in his bag before turning to pet the alpaca. "Not so scary," he said with a small smile, face blushy as usual. He brushed a strand of blue hair off his dark skin and made a kitty face when the alpaca baa'd at him.

"You'd know what scary is?" the alpaca – yes, the alpaca – said with a head tilt. It went back to chewing cud. Zeke wasn't surprised. This was just another day in Erinn for the young warrior.

Still, the alpaca was calling him out. He shifted his weight and looked to the side. "Thanks for letting me sheer you."

The alpaca smiled and wagged its tail in an odd way. "You're welcome. Now, hop on."

"What?! Why?!" Zeke could have sweat-dropped, like an anime character.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm kidnapping you."

"Uh... okay."

Zeke hesitated, but he put his hand on the alpaca's shoulder and sat on her back. The alpaca ran them through the packs of wolves back towards town. Nothing paid them any mind, not even the sheep.

"So... you're an alpaca..." Zeke started. "Do you have a name?"

"Don't we all?"

The snarkiness was something Zeke was starting to get used to. "Well, what is it?"

"Are you going to laugh?"

"Maybe."

"It's Lady Puffball." Lady Puffball came to a stop in town square and looked back to him almost moodily.

Zeke looked back to her, a serious expression in place. "What's that look for?"

"What look?" Still, the alpaca gave him 'the look'.

"You're the one that's kidnapping me," Zeke mumbled with a pout.

"And?" but Lady Puffball was cut off as a different human stepped up, one in a stereotypical black and red robe. It looked cool, but it was all-too-common in Erinn.

"Zeke!" The guy said with his sword raising. "Fight me, Zeke. I'm bored."

Zeke could have sweat-dropped again. He leaned a little forward. "Hey, run," he whispered to the alpaca. The young man was persistent though.

"Come on, Zeke. Fight me," the guy said with a head tilt back.

Lady Puffball twitched her tail and took off towards Alby dungeon, tail twitching as she pranced. A grin spread across Zeke's face as he held on; maybe being kidnapped wasn't so bad. "Thanks..."

Lady Puffball held a smile to herself and ran past the entrance to the dungeon. They came to a large gate, magic emanating off of it, and stopped briefly. "You don't have to thank me," she commented. "But I think you could have taken him."

As soon as she passed through the gate, an icy gust blew past them. It was snowing so suddenly where the grass had grown green and tall before. Lady Puffball walked forward cautiously, each hoof delicately moved in the heavy snow. But they weren't alone.

Old and ancient monsters growled behind the spruce that grew there.

"I have an idea." Lady Puffball stopped in a field of snowmen, ignoring their cold looks. Her wool kept her warm; Zeke's robe kept him from shivering.

"Is it a good idea?" Zeke muttered crossly. Had the alpaca even had one good idea yet?

Lady Puffball smirked openly, but she kept her head forward, out of Zeke's sight. "They say the older a fomor's servant is, the better treasures they keep hidden." A howl echoed behind them.

Zeke turned on Lady Puffball's back and stared at the larges coyote he had ever seen. It bared its fangs at him and lowered his head, its growl as menacing as its glare.

"Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!" Lady Puffball shouted. She was an alpaca; of course she hated coyotes. She stamped and bucked Zeke off, baaing as she pawed the ground.

Zeke sighed and ran at the coyote. It really wasn't a challenge. He stuck his sword in and twisted, sending the coyote flying... and what was left was a ruby. A very large ruby. He walked over and picked it up after sheathing his blade. "Awesome!"

Lady Puffball pranced over to him and smiled. "Want to look for more old coots?"

"Oh yeah!" Zeke grinned.

With his trusty alpaca steed, Zeke cleared the enchanted forest of the worst evils – but that didn't make him the hero. He left the younger ones alive and full of hate for the humans and milletains. Maybe they would grow to be ancient old 'coots' themselves.


	2. Chapter 2: The Guild Leader's Plight

When, Graril wondered, would his beloved, snarky alpaca return? He looked up at the sky as he skipped a rock over the small lake in Tir Chonaill (to distract himself from worry). It wasn't often his pets ran away, so why now? Had he done something wrong? Lady Puffball may have not liked her name, but was that really a reason to leave her master?

The elf's ears went down, almost flat against his neck, as he stood up. Graril felt like it was his fault she had left him. Maybe he hadn't fed her enough for her liking.

That was it.

Delphic's guild leader grabbed his green flashy cooking utensils and started a fire with deft hands. He didn't really know why, but fires were the easiest thing in the world to make, and he could make a lot of things with those dexterous fingers. He was practically a master of campfires; his always lasted as long as the best of the best.

There were a lot of skills he had mastered – and still more he was close to mastering – and a lot of things he couldn't get better at simply because no one knew how to yet. But campfires? He shook his head and looked down at his cooking pot. He didn't even know how that had happened.

Campfires.

The temperature was just right. Graril added a little of this, a dash of that, and a pinch of one more thing before letting the soup boil.

He hoped Lady Puffball enjoyed her meal; it was a dish straight from the heavens. It didn't attract her, though. In fact, no one came at the sight of him cooking, which was odd to the elf. He was so used to people asking for the best meal ever, that his lonely status made him feel that much emptier.

Graril walked up the steps to the road and held the soup he had made almost like a shield from the world, the steam winding up into the ever-clear, crisp blue sky. It was almost too silent.

White hair shining in the sun, red eyes partially hidden by the shaggy haircut, he made his way to the square, and his tanned ears instantly dropped an inch once again.

Poor Zeke. He saw the challenge being issued and his beloved alpaca run away. So maybe it wasn't what he was thinking, but that guy was a little too weak to be issuing challenges to just anyone. Maybe Zeke just didn't look like a strong opponent, but he was.

Graril gave a weak smile. His guild had gotten stronger each day, and it made him so proud. They could survive in the dreaded Peaca Dungeon, which said something (though he could solo it, so he tried to mostly play support and keep them alive when he could with his bow and his songs).

He sat down with the soup in his lap, under the large tree near Duncan. It was such a shame to see now-warm soup go to waste...

Seeing all the young milletains made him smile. He ate the soup in front of them, his tastebuds dancing, as a young girl approached him.

She stared at his white demonic wings and his white Vates outfit. She smiled. Graril smiled back wearily. She smiled again, purposely relaxing her face then smiling at him. Graril looked uncertain and smiled back. He downed the soup to keep from having to say anything.

. . .

The girl kept watching him and inched to almost sitting on his lap. She smiled once again, and, again, he smiled back.

"Hello..." Graril finally said. She just smiled again. "Um... how are you?" Finally, the girl giggled with a blush. Now he understood.

"You're... an elf, right?" she asked and reached out to touch his ears. Graril smiled faintly as her fingers brushed the apex of his cartilage.

As his response, Graril nodded and said: "I am, yeah."

The girl leaned on him and seemed to be taking in his scent. The ear furthest away from her twitched in annoyance. She was certainly... close. "It must be so nice to fly..."

Graril gently stood up and offered her a hand. "Try it with me?" Maybe if he just gave her what she wanted, she'd leave him alone as just some cool person she met.

She took the hand and he hovered in the air with her, wings fluttering just enough to keep them up. From anyone's perspective, it looked like a romantic gesture. She giggled and blushed to further that thought.

"This... is... so cool... You're so cool..." she muttered. Graril's ears twitched again.

"Thanks..."

"I really mean it." She let go and gently dropped to the ground. Awkward silence followed as Graril landed near her.

She then opened her eyes wide as he turned to the side. "Oh! An instrument!" she said at the lyre resting on Graril's back.

Graril pulled it off and blinked. "You like music?"

"Do I!"

He didn't see the harm in playing a few songs for her. Graril bowed when he finished, and she was starry-eyed. All she could do was clap.

Graril certainly wasn't worrying about Lady Puffball anymore, oh no. Now he had a crush to deal with, and it wasn't him with the crush. _How to break it to her gently?_ he wondered. There didn't seem to be a soft way to tell her.

"Hey, have you ever done Ciar Dungeon before?" Graril said out of the blue, breaking her from her claps.

The girl shook her head. "I was always told that was a hard dungeon for fresh meat like me." Truth be told, she had tried and failed it.

Graril closed his eyes before smiling. "Do you trust me?" Of course the girl did, since she was all over him. On the bright side, he was sure he didn't come off as a pervert.

"Mm... yes!" She smiled brightly. Too brightly.

_At least she has spirit. _Graril chuckled and called his white ostrich. "Hop on then," he said as he held a hand out to help her up. She took it gladly and he got on behind her.

The next hour flew by. Graril played soothing music to lull the monsters into a gentle sleep. The-girl-he-didn't-yet-know-the-name-of killed the monsters, progressively getting better at swordplay. These were the moments Graril loved to see: Fresh adventurers growing in front of his eyes, confidence building from a gentle nudge in the right direction. It was rewarding to witness.

When they came to the final room, Graril cleared his throat. "You should probably stay back," he warned her, but she didn't seem to be paying attention. "And stay way from the golem!" he added louder as she opened the door.

She wasn't staying away from the golem. Crap.

Graril ran in and got down on a knee. He aimed his crossbow right at the golem's chest and released the bolt. Down in one shot.

But it was too late. The girl laid on her back, sword on the ground near either hand. She was knocked out, still breathing. One by one, metal skeletons fell down.

She woke up before the doors opened. "Oh... wow... that was... so quick." She rubbed her head and yawned. "Ow, my head..."

Graril chuckled and put a hand down to help her up. She took it. "I told you you should have stayed back."

"I'll listen next time." She winced then smiled.

It was silent for a moment before Graril coughed. "So, I'm gay."

The girl once again fell over, but this time from shock. All she could do was sit up and stare at him with wide, unblinking eyes. And then...

"Can you repeat that?"

"I'm a boy elf married to a boy elf," Graril rephrased, before she could metaphorically pull the gay definition out of her back pocket.

"Oh... wow..." She laughed nervously. "Now I feel pretty stupid."

Graril placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed it. "It's okay. You would have found out eventually. I just didn't want to lead you on or you think I was." He quite loved Romeus.

"Thank you..." She smiled to him.


	3. Chapter 3: How About That Romance?

What had happened? Graril was at a loss. One day, Romeus had just said 'enough was enough' and now they weren't married anymore. It wasn't a forced divorce, at least. He would always consider Romeus his friend, but he just didn't understand. What had he done wrong? Graril curled up on his side and looked over a present the other male elf had given him.

It was a bow, pretty and white, flexible but sturdy. Fit for a grandmaster. It had been upgraded time and time again for the guild master's use, prepared by Romeus as a token of good will. How much had he spent trying to make it just right... but that was over now. It didn't matter.

They were over.

"I'm so sorry..." Graril found himself muttering as he clutched a pillow. His homestead felt too large now, too empty, without his husband to hold his hand. Sitting alone on the moon just wasn't the same, or even sitting with friends. No one really visited him when he was home; when he saw old friends, it was always outside and by accident. Romeus might still be his friend, but that didn't change how lonely his departure left him. It was too much to stay there.

The elf stood and twitched his ears, holding the pillow to his chest femininely. How long had it been, he wondered, since he had made a new friend. How long had it been since he had seen anyone? Even Romeus, even that elf, hadn't shown his face in what felt like months. Graril had been alone, in the shadow realm, in dungeons, and just all over the place without anyone.

Too long.

Graril gave the pink pillow one last hug and placed it down. There was nothing left to do in a queen bed. There was no one to share it with on cold nights. He went outside and let the warm sun hit his face. Maybe it was meant to be a new beginning, not an end.

The elf put on a black battle school outfit, white belts the only accented color. His white demon wings twitched and unfolded as he blinked his red eyes. There was something missing. Graril didn't have a battle mask, but he put a black one anyway. It didn't match the set, but he didn't feel like letting people see his frowns or smiles. Sometimes showing emotion was the most painful part of divorce.

With a heavy sigh, the guild master exited and went to Dunbarton. Everyone went to Dunbarton. If he couldn't find a friend there, he couldn't find a friend anywhere. The elf certainly didn't want to go back to the girl that had a crush on him; he hadn't seen her in twice as long as the rest of his friends as it was. Everyone he ever knew seemed to be disappearing.

He looked out over the crowded market square and took a step back. Graril hated large groups; they made him feel pressured and pinned. He took a deep breath and moved forward to browse the shops, eyes darting from person to person.

_So far, so good, _he told himself. His stomach growled in protest, however. Graril hadn't eaten yet that day, which was stupid on his part, but shopping had become a bit of a pain. He sighed and went to the grocery store.

Shopping had always been Romeus' thing. It wasn't that he was cheap or liked to mooch, but Graril just disliked eating. He believed the old tales of living off of the morning dew with meditation. Today, though, hunger was hitting him, and hitting him hard.

Graril took an alcoholic drink and was about to order food to go with it, but a human bumped into his side. He gasped in surprise, more than anything, and looked to the man. He had black hair, wore sunglasses, and had on a culinary artist outfit. It was an odd combination, but, somehow, it worked for him.

"I am so sorry," the human rambled quickly. "I was just, I mean, I'm trying really hard to, uh... well... I want to cook!" he finished. The human shuffled his feet, eyes going downcast to the ground. "But I'm not very good at it." 

The elf couldn't help but sigh and smile. "Go ahead. I have all day." He didn't feel like he was starving, and the human was eager. "I'm Graril. I can taste-test your food, if you want. Anything's better than what the restaurants sell."

"Graril..." the human said with a testing tone. "That sounds like Grail, kinda." He looked up at the taller elf, lips twitching up into a smile. "I'm Flarous." He held out a hand.

It had been so long since someone extended their hand to him that Graril felt a bit out of sorts with the gesture. "It's nice to meet you," he muttered and took the hand. He didn't know what to think about the human. "Your name sounds like floral."

Flarous' face tinted pink. "Oh, I guess it does." The human rubbed the back of his head and looked off to the side. "Unintentional, really."

"Are you a milletian?" Graril asked softly. He really didn't know how the residents of that world knew what they were on sight, or if they did at all, but he always had to ask to tell. If it wasn't someone he knew, anyway.

Flarous nodded and withdrew his hand at long last. "I am. I'm pretty fresh to Erinn. I was looking for a guild to join, too, to show me the ropes."

_A guild_... Graril looked to the side, thinking of all the terrible people a sweet boy like Flarous could encounter. He had never been known to give the clothes off his back for other milletains, but he certainly wasn't a bad influence, or so he hoped. "My guild is fairly small and friendly."

The eyes behind Flarous' glasses lit up. "Are you... inviting me to your guild?" he asked with excitement. He hoped that was the case.

"If you want me to, I will," Graril couldn't help but smile behind the face mask. He crossed his arms, head tilting forward slightly. "We do have a few rules, though. We don't do drama."

Nodding eagerly, Flarous practically stood on his toes as he waited for more.

"We... like to have fun, too. We all do our own thing, but we all want to talk and enjoy our time," Graril said a bit more confidently. "I'll bring you the sign up sheets?" he asked to be sure.

Flarous nodded again. "Please!"

It was only a year later that Graril found himself kissing Flarous' lips for the first time, taking him home, letting him taste his cooking. Flarous learned and studied under him, tasting his food to better understand what he was trying to create.

Every moment made Graril smile. Every second together pulled his mind further away from Romeus. He couldn't help but ask Flarous to marry him; they spent so much time together already.

The wedding was better than he could have imagined. They picked the one time of day when the sun was just beginning to set and fade to purple in the sky, pinks and reds highlighting the horizon. They went home together and kept each other company until the morning came.


End file.
